LIFE : ANOTHER ROOM
This is the way it seems to me - all those
issue and foibles and noise. Life, as another
room : something just off from where I am.
-
I can sit back, making that choice, and muse on
something from here; this other place I am at.
Life, in that other room, runs on. The voices may
change, or have changed, but the struggle with
memory and its languages remains. Out there.
-
Sullied by nothing, there is no meaning at all.
I think it's the dirt that gives things the meaning.
Isn't that what purity means?
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